Breaking Point
by Blisterdude
Summary: Kirkwall is on the verge. Tensions mount between the Circle and the Templars and the city can feel that things are spinning out of control. Many look to the Champion to stop the coming storm, but is it too late? Look back at events in Marian Hawke's life in Kirkwall, the choices she made and the decisions she has to live with as she comes to terms with her fate at the Gallows.
1. The Night Before

A/N: Thought I'd add this little notice to clarify some things, in case people weren't sure. The "present" setting for this story is right before the quest Best Served Cold. Most chapters will flash back in time to past events or focal points in Hawke's story, but it will return to this "present" as it winds up to the confrontation at the Gallows with Meredith.

Bethany looked up from her desk again, setting aside the quill. She was sure she'd heard something this time. She stood, brushing out the creases in the light woollen nightdress she was wearing and crossed the meagre distance that passed for personal space in her…_cell._

_No._ She couldn't think of it like that or she'd go mad, even if that's exactly what it was. The mages quarters were in the Gallows and the Gallows itself was merely a repurposed prison for slaves, from the days when Tevinter still ruled an empire that stretched across Thedas. Now it was a prison for mages instead.

She approached the heavily barred window that looked out over the courtyard below, the bay ahead and the city of Kirkwall itself, beyond that. A half-moon lit the dark waters.

"_Are we there yet?_" A voice hissed.

Bethany blinked. _It couldn't be…_she mused, noting the familiar sultry tone.

"_What we, there is no we, you shouldn't even be-_" A second voice began before it cut off sharply and there was the sound of frantic scrabbling on stone, some muffled cursing and two people squabbling.

Bethany pressed up to the window, wrapping her fingers around the bars. She swallowed nervously.

"_Sister?_" She whispered into the dark.

The voices stopped abruptly.

"_Bethany, is that you?_" A hand appeared, fumbling blindly, Bethany gripped it in relief. "_Thank the Maker, I was beginning to think I'd come to the wrong room this time._"

"_This time?_" The second voice quipped, dripping with glee. "_Goody-two-shoes Hawke has broken into the Gallows before?_"

"_Isabela…_" Marian warned, though there was no real threat in her words. "_Beth, are the bars still-_"

"_Yes, hang on a second._" She replied, beginning to fiddle with the centre bars.

It was a good thing her steadfast caretakers never thought to check her room very thoroughly. Being so high up in the Gallows ruled out the possibility of escape through something as obvious as the window, even if that's exactly what they'd done. With some prying and jiggling, the bars slid free. She set them gently aside on the floor and returned just in time to grab her sisters flailing hands, helping her through the window as quietly as possible.

She couldn't suppress the old warmth she felt in her sisters presence. Her short mop of raven hair, her pale, almost silver skin, the reassurance she felt in the grip of her strong hands. The hands of a warrior, though for the sake of discretion Marian had abandoned her usual apparel of a suit of armour in favour of a light, tight-fitting leather tunic.

The effect was only slightly spoiled when Marian misjudged her grip, falling through with a yelp, dragging her sister down to the floor with her.

"Sorry…" Marian groaned, heaving herself onto her hands and knees.

"_That's okay, but…if you could…um…_" Bethany stammered, looking up at her sister.

Marian looked down, seeing her sister laying beneath her. She could almost feel her skin beneath the thin nightdress. Bethany gazed up at her, as thrown as she was. Maker, she looked so…_vulnerable._

"_…uhhh…_" She managed, her mouth suddenly dry.

"_Could I interrupt your no doubt touching family reunion and get a bloody hand out here please?_" Isabela hissed from outside.

Bethany scrambled backward, feeling the heat growing on her cheeks as Marian looked resolutely away, hurrying to assist the dusky pirate into her room. Unlike Marian, Isabela clambered through with grace, her body bending lithely as she flipped from her hands to her feet, flashing her long, smooth legs and…Bethany felt her blush deepen.

"_Quit showing off._" Marian elbowed the Rivaini captain, playfully.

"_Be fair, Hawke, I haven't seen dear Bethany since the last time you visited. The last time *I* remember you visiting, anyway._" She raised her eyebrows suggestively, with a grin. "_What's this about the paragon of Kirkwall stealing into the Gallows for discreet liaisons then?_"

"_Another time._" Marian replied, curtly. She turned to Bethany, eyes full of concern. "_Are you alright?"_

Bethany nodded, knowing what she was asking. The situation was worsening. The last three years had seen the city recover from the Qunari attack, on the surface. But beneath it all, the tension between the Circle and the Templars was worsening by the week, the day, the minute? It was only a matter of time before…something happened and-

"_I'm fine, nobody has really bothered me….yet. I think being the sister of the Champion of Kirkwall goes some way to buying me some elbow room…_" She gestured to some chairs, while she sat herself on the edge of her bed. Marian sat, listening intently. Even Isabela looked focused, through her veneer of casual aloofness. "_Things are getting more strained here, though. Is that why you're here? What's happening out there?_"

Marian looked away, as if trying to mask what she was feeling, but Bethany knew her too well, she could tell she must have been really worried. Things must have been bad. Isabela appeared just as alarmed as she at her older sister's reaction.

"_Hawke?_" The pirate asked, puzzled.

Marian regarded them both with a troubled frown. Indecision flashed across her features for a moment, before she seemed to come to a conclusion.

"_I want you to leave with me, Bethany._"

Bethany opened her mouth, too surprised to reply.

"_I can't leave you here, anymore. It's…it's not safe. I need to know you're safe._"

"_Leave the Circle?_" She blurted, feeling foolish.

"_Hawke, what are you-?_" Isabela interrupted.

Marian stood suddenly, over the pirates question.

"_The Circle, the city, the Free Marches._" Her sister insisted. "_I want you out, away, safe._"

"_I've heard the rumours, the people want to make you viscount. You can change things, you can-_"

"_Everybody knows the viscount of Kirkwall rules at the sufferance of the Templars. And I will not…I cannot support them. Not with all that's happening…I cannot do it._" Marian shook her head sadly. "_I need you to leave, I can't…I can't lose you too._"

Bethany struggled to process everything, this was too fast, this was…_she didn't say we._

"_You didn't say we. You said me._" Bethany was on her feet too. "_What about you?_" She stared hard at her sister.

Marian held her gaze.

"_I have to stay._"

"_Rot!"_ Bethany scoffed.

"_Hawke._" Isabela tried again.

"_I have to stay. I have to try and…_" Marian gestured vaguely. "_People count on me, I have a responsibility to try and protect this city._"

"_And what about me?_" Bethany retorted. "_I know people in here, I've known them for years now. And what about Varric and Merril and all the others? I won't abandon them, I won't abandon anybody, I won't abandon…_"

The two fell silent.

"_Hawke._" Isabela spoke softly. Bethany watched her slip her hand into Marian's, reassuringly. She ignored the small knot of jealousy in her stomach. "_Would you leave?_"

Marian blinked, glancing at the pirate, then back at her. Bethany saw her open her mouth to fight, argue, protest, object. She saw a dozen or more emotions crashing about inside her at once. She felt some guilt at being the source of such turmoil in her sister, when she truly had so many other concerns. But she wouldn't be beaten on this.

"I'm not leaving you Marian." She stated, calmly.

For a moment, she wondered if she'd gone too far, but then she saw the slight twitch at the corner of her sister's lips, the hint of a smile. It made her feel warm all over, as Marian shook her head and chuckled quietly. She stepped forward, Bethany let her take her hands in her own, gently.

"Carver would have been proud."

Bethany giggled, looking down.

"Mother would have been proud of you, but then you were always the responsible one." She replied, smiling as Marian fidgeted.

"Oh come on you two, kiss and make up already!" Isabella smirked lewdly from behind them.

"Isabela!" Hawke scowled at the pirate, only making the nubile pirate smile gleefully.

They all clammed up at the sound of footsteps in the hall outside.

"_We'd better go_." Marian turned back to her sadly, with a whisper.

Bethany nodded in response. While Marian looked down at her feet, she looked past her to Isabela, pleadingly. The pirate smiled warmly.

"_Only for you, sweetness._" Isabela giggled, it was an oddly alluring sound. "_Your big sister can be such a prude sometimes. I'll see you on the way back down, Hawke."_ Isabela waved playfully, before climbing through the window and slipping out of sight.

Marian half-turned as the pirate disappeared, a retort ready on her lips. Bethany lifted a hand to her sister's cheek, turning her back toward her.

"_I've missed you, you know._" Bethany whispered, softly, gazing deeply into her sister cold blue eyes.

"_I do know. I've missed you too._" Marian's hands slid gently down her sides, resting on her hips.

Bethany flushed, she'd missed this, her sister's touch. Her breath caught in her throat. Marian hesitated, mistaking her reaction for objection.

"_I'm sorry, I-_"

Bethany placed both hands on Marian's cheeks, holding her gaze before her older sister could pull back. Outside, the footsteps were getting closer.

"_I love you._" Bethany whispered.

Hawke flinched only a little as her younger sister leaned upward, pressing her soft lips against her own, before pulling Bethany into a tight embrace, returning the kiss. Bethany felt herself leaning back in her sister's strong arms, completely at ease, completely safe. It was with great reluctance they pulled away.

As Hawke made her way back to the window, Bethany retrieved the bars for the window. She couldn't resist asking something that had been niggling at her since she and Isabela had arrived.

"_So…sister. You and Isabela?_"

Marian visibly twitched.

"_Me and…Isabela?_" She repeated, incredulously.

Bethany grinned at her sister's discomfort, despite the hint of envy she still felt.

"_Well?_"

"_We-_" Marian began, when the sound of somebody fumbling with keys beyond the door cut her off.

"_Go, quickly._" Bethany helped Marian clamber through the window again.

As her sister slipped out, she fixed the bars back in place. Just as she was done, Marian's head reappeared over the sill.

"_I love you too, Bethany._" Marian whispered, grabbing Bethany by the collar of her nightdress and pulling her in for a last quick kiss, before she disappeared from view, beginning the long climb down.

Bethany stumbled back, head spinning, heart thumping, giddy with an overwhelming sense of wellbeing. She hadn't felt this happy in a long time. She barely noticed the door swing open behind her as three Templars entered.

"Mistress Hawke," The leader began. "You have been summoned, you are to attend immediately."

"Fine, fine." She nodded, irritated. "Give me a minute." She watched them nod and file out as she began getting dressed into her mage robes.

Bethany finished buttoning up her robe as she stepped out the door. She nodded to the lead Templar, following him as he marched down the hall, flanked by two more she hadn't seen earlier. The other two fell into step behind her.

If she'd been thinking clearly she might have found it odd that so many would be sent just for her, she might have found it odd that she didn't know any of them, she might have found it odd that there were no other guards in the hall, she might have found it odd that she be summoned at all so late at night.

As it was, Bethany had very little time to be surprised when she was grabbed from behind and struck on the back of the head. Her vision faded and darkness took her quickly as she was carried into the night.


	2. Ostagar

"I can't believe you and Carver and still going to do this!" Bethany yelled, following her siblings as they bustled about the house, packing the last of their things.

"It's been no secret, sister." Carver snapped back, glancing warily at their mother who, unlike Bethany, was taking it all in with a resigned stare. "The army is gathering at Ostagar, they're going to need all the help they can get."

"So why are _you_ two going then?" She retorted, meaner than she'd intended.

Carver glared at her, then stalked back to his own room to gather his things, muttering to himself. She turned her attentions to her sister, instead.

"Marian, you don't need to do this."

Marian stopped, not looking back at her.

"The darkspawn have to be stopped."

"But…" Bethany stuttered, frantically. "But you're supposed to look after our family, you're supposed to protect us! And the Templars aren't going anywhere!"

"Bethany…" Leandra began, watching the exchange wearily. She'd had numerous talks and arguments with her son and daughter about their decision for the past month. She wasn't happy about it, but she had resigned herself to the fact she couldn't stop them. She sighed. "I'm going to talk to Carver."

Leandra reached out, giving Marian's hand an affectionate squeeze, before leaving after their brother.

"Beth…"

"It's not fair. Why do you have to go!" She stormed up to her older sister, who still refused to meet her gaze.

"I can't let Carver go alone."

"So you're going to leave me alone instead?"

"Mother is here."

"You know what I mean." She snapped.

Marian looked uncomfortable, staring fixedly down at her feet.

"You promised you'd protect us, that you'd never leave, you promised father." Bethany spoke, half-pleading. "And you…promised me."

"I know." Marian replied, after a pause.

"Then why are you going?" She argued.

"Because it's the right thing to do!" Marian looked up at her, expression twisted, conflicted.

Bethany winced, suddenly feeling very selfish.

"I…uh…"

"I'm doing this because I want to protect mother, I want to protect you. If the darkspawn aren't stopped, they'll come here and then what? Hundreds will die, maybe thousands!"

"Then take me with you, there are other mages going, they marched through here days ago."

"Circle mages, Bethany. And they'll be watched like hawks by Templars, it's too much of a risk." Marian replied, as calmly as she could.

The younger mage threw her arms in the air in exasperation.

"I…I don't want you to go Marian!" She looked down, wiping her eyes furiously against the tears she could feel welling up.

Marian placed her hands on her sister's shoulders, then cupped a hand under her chin, raising her head gently to look at her.

"If the world was the way I wanted it to be, I'd never leave you again, Beth."

Bethany pressed herself against her older sister, burying herself in Marian's arms. Marian tried to ignore the breaking of her heart as she felt Bethany begin to sob, then cry.

"We'll be back before you know it." She whispered, stroking Bethany's hair, as much to convince herself as the shaking girl, holding her tightly.

…

The army poured into the narrow valley between the cliffs the Tevinter fortress of Ostagar was built into. Marian and Carver fought to stay close to one another in the somewhat chaotic bustle. Carver bemoaned the fact they weren't at the front, while Marian was silently thanking the Maker. It wasn't that she was afraid to fight, it was simply an awareness that those at the front would certainly die.

Somewhere way ahead she knew the Grey Wardens had taken position, with King Cailan and his own forces. They'd met one of the new Wardens, the day before. She and Carver had been sent out with a patrol, bumping into the Warden recruits on their way back from the Korcari Wilds. They'd stopped together, to share some food for a time. The three initiates came from all walks, it seemed. The Wardens didn't concern themselves with position or wealth. One was a thief, one a knight, and one, she'd been most surprised to discover, was the second son to the Cousland family, of Highever.

Of course, word had spread of the massacre at Highever. Though the Warden professed no personal desire to reclaim his title and lands for himself, he did aim to aid his elder brother, who was here with the army, in doing so. She found herself hanging on his every word, before she knew it, the man had a gift. She didn't think much of the Grey Warden with them though. He was sarcastic, a bit flippant. Kept making bad jokes as if he was uneasy about something, though Cousland seemed patient enough with him though, Marian couldn't imagine deal with somebody so outwardly childish, irresponsible or immature on a regular basis.

"The King's down there." Carver nudged her in the side, pulling her from her thoughts.

Cailan was walking amongst the men and the Wardens at the front, talking and clapping shoulders. He was young, but at least he seemed to be taking things seriously enough to be here. Chantry priests were also walking up and down the ranks, praying. There was a sudden clap of thunder ahead, and a steady rain began to fall.

"Wonderful." Muttered Marian.

"This is going to play hell with our spellcasting." A voice laughed, hollowly.

She turned to see a mage to her right, clad in the robes of the Circle, with a few others. Several Templars were positioned around them.

She smiled.

"My sister loves the rain. Our Father always used to take her out and teach her when it rained because most people would stay indoors."

"Teach her?" The man regarded her curiously, then his eyes widened. "Oh, is your sister a mage? Is she here?"

"She…uh…no. She isn't." Marian replied, as diplomatically as possible, looking straight ahead.

The mage nodded, understandingly.

"I'm sure she's safe…" The man continued. "…wherever she is." He added quietly, with a smile.

"I hope so…" Marian murmured.

There was a sudden change of mood in the ranks, that spread from the front like a ripple. Everybody grew silent. It seemed the woods ahead were glowing, whether with fire or…something else, Marian couldn't say.

"Is the wind picking up? The trees are moving." One voice said.

"That's not the trees you idiot." A voice snapped back.

"Makers breath." Carver breathed.

The horde had arrived.

…

Bethany had wandered into Lothering, in an attempt to take her mind off of things. Her brother and sister were somewhere to the south, about to…

She groaned, a walk simply wasn't cutting it.

Her mother would have fretted about her going off alone, she always did. But most of the Templars had left to go south with the Army, and as long as she didn't just throw any fireballs about she figured she'd be okay.

The village proper was pretty deserted. A pall of barely restrained fear hung over the place like a blanket. She figured most were too worried to really do anything till they knew what would happen next, whether it be news of victory or…

"Oh…Andrastes tits!" She hissed, realising she was thinking about it again.

"Such colourful language." A voice interrupted her inner tirade.

Bethany shuddered to a halt, realising she'd wound up outside the chantry. She was being addressed by a Sister, who was leaning against the wall beside the Chanter's board, idly. Instantly, the first thing that struck her was how pretty she was. She had a shock of short, red hair. Her skin was slightly flush, her hands and features, her lips…everything about the girl seemed…delicate.

"Are you alright?" The Sister asked. Her accent was unmistakably Orlesian, her words were practically drowning in it.

"You're Orlesian." Bethany finally managed after finding her voice, feeling stupid the moment the words left her mouth.

The girl laughed. It was an absurdly pretty sound.

"What gave it away?"

Bethany blushed and hurriedly babbled an attempt at an apology.

"And I thought I was being so careful, too." The girl drawled with a grin, pouring it on thick. "My name is Leliana."

"You're teasing me." Bethany smiled, mock hurt. "I'm Bethany."

The girl's head tilted to one side, curious.

"You are Marian's sister? But she did not tell me you were so pretty!"

"…er…" Bethany gaped.

"Your sister is most remiss, though I should have suspected, you look like her."

"…um…" Bethany tried again, struggling to keep up. Her cheeks must have been bright red.

"She has told me all about you, I had hoped we might meet one day."

"…all..?" She smiled, weakly, finally seeing the ground again beneath her.

"Oh, yes." The red-head smiled. Bethany couldn't help but feel it was a façade, not that Leliana seemed unkind, just that there was another conversation running under this one she was not privy to.

"…all." Right now the ground was covered in sharp, pointy rocks.

"She obviously cares a great deal for you."

"I…think so."

"Caring for someone with your condition can be difficult, to say the least." Leliana continued without missing a beat.

"About my…condition." Bethany narrowed her eyes at the Sister.

"Oh don't worry, my lips are sealed. To be with child out of wedlock, and the father gone is a cruel lot indeed."

"P…p…..pr…?" Bethany stuttered.

Leliana smiled kindly. Not for the first time, Bethany wondered if there was not more to the woman. Marian couldn't lie. It wasn't exactly a failing, per se, but her older sister had always been a terrible liar. Something seemed off, there was no way this woman believed that, if that's what Marian had even told her.

"One should not have to deal with such a thing alone, you have a kind family who are there for you, do not waste such a thing."

"I…won't." Bethany felt herself smile despite her confusion. "You're…um…don't take this the wrong way, but you're a bit…odd for a Sister of the Chantry."

"So my fellow Sisters often tell me." The girl laughed a little, before a more serious expression crossed her features. "Marian and your brother have gone to Ostagar, with the other volunteers, haven't they?"

"They left the other day." Bethany mumbled, distractedly. She was completely taken by surprise when the strange woman gently took her hands.

"They will be alright, you know. Have faith."

"I don't know that," Bethany smiled sadly. "Thank you for saying it, though."

Leliana withdrew.

"I should leave you to your walk, I'm sure I have taken enough of your time. My thoughts will be with your sister. Good day, Bethany."

"Yeah…" Bethany watched her go.

As soon as Leliana was out of sight, she cursed again. She was _still_ thinking about it.

…

"Remind me of the plan, again sister? It was so rotting simple I seem to have forgotten it." Carver growled, drawing his two-handed sword.

The horde had hurled itself at them. The mabari had been unleashed, blunting the force of the darkspawn charge. The front ranks had been demolished with arrows and artillery fire from the bridge above. But the horde rolled on, seemingly unstoppable. The first wave of troops, along with the Wardens had charged forward, to draw the horde further into the narrow gorge. All this had happened in the space of about twenty minutes, but it seemed like an eternity to Marian, who in the second wave with her brother Carver had to wait.

"The beacon will be lit, Cailan slowly withdraws his men, bringing the horde into the gorge and Loghain flanks the horde with his forces. And then we win." Marian replied slowly, drawing her own two-handed sword.

"And would that be the beacon now lit at the top of that massive bloody tower, the one you'd need to have your rotting head buried underground in Orzammar to miss?"

"Quite possibly." She muttered, unable to bury the growing sense of unease she felt.

The horde was getting closer, but it had nothing to do with the plan. The king's forces were being slaughtered and so far, Loghain was a no-show. Around her, she felt the mood of her fellow soldiers darken, almost imperceptibly.

"Stay close to me, Carver."

"I can take care of myself." He objected. "I don't-"

"Stay close to me." She felt his eyes on her. Something in her tone cautioned him against arguing again.

The ranks began to shuffle backwards. A cry went up somewhere suddenly that the King Cailan was dead. Another that Loghain wasn't coming. Everything began to unravel quickly. She couldn't make out anything of the front ranks, one minute they'd been there and suddenly…all that was ahead of them were the twisted faces of the horde coming at them. Marian dug her foot in, bracing herself for what was about to hit them.

The horde collided with them like a dark wave, drowning the first ranks in seconds. With no real leadership left to speak of, any effective resistance there might have been quickly evaporated. The King was dead, Loghain wasn't coming, they'd been abandoned to deal with the horde.

Marian felt the wave ripple through the men and women around her. She quickly grabbed Carvers shoulder and began dragging him back. Everything was happening too fast.

"What're you doing?" He argued.

"It's over."

"No it isn't, we can still-"

"Do you need to die to prove you're a man!?" She snapped, glaring at him, eyes wild.

He fell silent. She could feel him bristling with anger, she knew full well how he felt he had a lot to prove stacked up against her and using that against him was cruel, but right now she'd rather he hate her and live. Around them, the battle turned quickly into a rout for the remnants of the Fereldan army, then a slaughter, as the darkspawn bore down on those struggling to escape.

Every fibre of her being yearned to stand and fight, to save those she could, though she knew she would die quickly, and Carver along with her. But she had a responsibility to her family, to her mother and sister. There was now nothing at all between the horde and Lothering.

The screams of battle soon turned to the screams of murder. Marian tried not to hear the growing cacophony behind them, tried not the see the images her mind assailed her with. She forced herself to think of home, mother and Bethany.

As they fled into the rain-streaked night, Ostagar burned behind them.


	3. Rememberance

_A/N: _Sorry for the short update. I'll make up for it next time.

_Kirkwall, Present Day_

The Hanged Man never seemed to change. Hawke found something comforting in that. The same assortment of drunks and strays seemed to find their way here at all hours of the day, every day, every week, every month… She wasn't sure what time it was right now, early morning definitely. Isabela nudged her shoulder, gesturing to a table ahead.

Varric waved them over from across the room, from his own "private" table. And if anybody needed reminding who the table belonged to, the surface-dwarf would happily introduce everybody in the vicinity to Bianca.

"How goes it Hawke, another busy night?"

"You could say that..." Isabela chirped lewdly as they took a seat at the table. "We've just been visiting-"

"_Isabela._" Marian warned.

"Been to see Sunshine again, have you?"

Marian smiled weakly as Isabela let out a series of splutters.

"You knew? Who else knew? Why didn't you tell _me?_"

"Come on Rivaini, you know that nothing happens in this city without me knowing about it."

"I like that you think that's a comforting thought." Marian mumbled, staring down into the drink Varric had ordered for her.

"Of course it is, I'm an intense regulator of the flow of information."

Across the pub another table exploded in laughter midway through a retelling of "Hawke and the High Dragon". Marian glared at the dwarf, who leaned back grinning.

"About the important stuff." He objected, while Isabela sniggered. "What's gotten you so down anyway, Hawke? Something wrong with Bethany?"

"No, no. She's okay. I mean I miss her, but it's not that." She hesitated, watching her two companions warily. They were her friends, she knew that. They and the others she'd met, they'd known each other for years now. But she'd never talked to them about Ostagar.

"Hawke?"

It all started at Ostagar. Maybe if she hadn't gone, maybe if they'd just fled north. Carver might be alive, they might never have come to Kirkwall, Bethany might still be with her, mother would be alive, they'd all be together.

"…Hawke?"

Her friends knew her as Hawke; fighter, warrior, legend in her own lifetime, Champion of Kirkwall. A woman willing to sacrifice anything to help those in need, somebody unafraid to fight for those who couldn't. And it had all started at Ostagar. Her friends knew she'd been at the battle, she'd told them her family had fled following the disaster, but she hadn't told them about the battle. They all just assumed she didn't talk about it because of the horror, because of the memories. They all just assumed she didn't want to talk about the things she'd done, her part in the battle. They all just assumed she'd done her-

"_Hawke?_"  
"_Hawke?_"

She snapped out of her brooding.

"Sorry." She mumbled, rubbing her eyes. She was tired.

Isabela placed a hand on her own, gently. She didn't flinch at the contact.

"Maybe you should-"

Maybe she'd tell them.

"Look around."

Varric and Isabela regarded her curiously, but did as they were bid.

"Spot the Fereldans."

The Hanged Man was always pretty quiet this time in the morning, but there was a stark difference between the groups at each table. Some talked quietly, while others sat in total silence.

"Do you know what day it is today?"

Her friends looked back at her, understanding dawning on their faces.

"You mean…" Isabela ventured.

"Seven years today." She took a swig of the drink.

Even Varric stumbled at finding something to say to fill the sudden silence that fell over their table. He opened and shut his mouth a few times. She felt a little guilty.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dropped this on you."

"No, no," Isabela waved her hands apologetically.

"We don't have to talk, nobody doubts what you went through there Hawke."

_Apart from me_, she thought bitterly.

Did it matter what you did? Did the choices you made to become the person you are matter if the person you were wasn't-

"You're really not with us tonight, are you?" Isabela snapped a finger playfully in front of her.

"Funnily enough, climbing halfway up the Gallows can really take it out of you." She smiled, pushing aside her friend's concern.

She noticed Varric had a peculiar expression his face, but when Marian looked at him, it was gone. He raised his mug.

"Ostagar." He said, neutral.

Isabela raised hers, echoing his toast.

Hawke felt uncomfortable for a second, she knew Varric had a talent for reading people. But she also knew he was one of her most trusted friends, even if he was suspicious of her behaviour, he'd never push the matter.

"Ostagar." She said, raising her drink to the others. "And maybe tomorrow will be better."

The other two chuckled, repeating her words. Together they drank till the first light of dawn shone through the cracks in the windows.


End file.
